


on your wrist

by YukinaMika



Series: 2019 [4]
Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, I REGRET NOTHING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-01 07:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20254480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukinaMika/pseuds/YukinaMika
Summary: The name on her wrist, written in bold, strong strokes, itched in a way that kept reminding her of its existence. And it spoke of a name so old that it seemed almost faded from memory with only the village elder saw it as more than just letters jumbled together to make a word.





	1. Chapter 1

_Have you ever been in love?_

She remembered asking that question at the tender age of three, staring at the name that decorated her mother’s left wrist, etched on the sickly pale skin in thin, elegant strokes. A name she remembered hearing from time to time from the villagers who would so graciously spare them some left-overs when the weather was less than agreeable.

Her mother, the kind woman that she was, had patted her head with a sad smile and the corner of her eyes crinkled sorrowfully and in the corner of the little hut, her father stiffened in the middle of going through the steps of making a sandal using the straws he picked up earlier.

_Once, dear child._

* * *

The white snow covering the ground slowly gave way to the green of springs which then turned into the blue of summer skies before autumn came and dyed the leaves beautifully in gold. And their villages when through prosperity as well as grief.

She – a child once with curious wide eyes – grew up with kindness in her eyes, softness in her smile and a heart that bled easily.

“Dear one,” cooed an old woman who taught her about the world the way her mother would have if she had more time on earth before sickness claimed her. “You are more beautiful each day. Have you any thoughts of the lucky one who will have your hand in marriage?”

Laughing softly, she turned her eyes to the small hut – still standing proudly despite falling down numerous times before violent storms. “Not yet,” she said. “Not until my sibling can stand on their own. Not until I am sure that I am ready for a spouse.”

“Dear child, do not hold yourself back just because of a name,” the old woman advised kindly. “I know what that thing on your wrist means but soulmates do not always have to be lovers. Nor does that mean it will end in happiness.”

She knew. Oh, she knew…

“Maybe next year,” she told the old woman. Just like the year before and the year before that.

The name on her wrist, written in bold, strong strokes, itched in a way that kept reminding her of its existence. And it spoke of a name so old that it seemed almost faded from memory with only the village elder saw it as more than just letters jumbled together to make a word.

* * *

The plague that swept through the village lingered for months and claimed many lives. And the once small but beautiful village was harrowed until there was nothing left except the sense of death and despair that seemed to blend into the gray of rainy skies.

Those who were unfortunate enough to be infected by the plague moved away from the village and set up small, temporary huts to spend their last days. And she – the girl with such a tender heart and kind smile – went with them, determined to keep the village that had sheltered her safe.

“You should not have stuck by my side,” her father lamented between heavy breaths. “Should have just let me go alone. Why suffer for someone who does not even share blood with you?”

The ladle stopped for a moment until she returned to dividing what meager – and bland – porridge into two bowls. “You are the last of my family, no matter which blood was or was not shared.”

“And what about your soulmate? What if that person was out there, waiting for you but you just go ahead and die?” He spitted back almost bitterly. “Do you not want to wait for that person?”

Having no name to decorate his wrist nor had his marriage with her mother been a result of love, her father deemed the name on her skin as nothing more than birthmark, if birthmarks could be letters put together deliberately.

“Being soulmates does not mean that people would end up as lovers,” she repeated for the hundredth time, just like her mother had, just like the old woman had. “Yes, it means we might be compatible but it does not guarantee a happy ending.”

“…Fine. Have it your way.” Her father grumbled, clearly not pleased with the out-coming of this back-and-forth argument between them with him trying to get her to leave and her fighting tooth-and-nail to remain.

She never told anyone but she knew. She could read the name that was etched on her wrist. Written in the ancient language of this very land was the name of her other half: Zeno.

* * *

It was not long before she was the only one remained in the hut, shivering from the cold that slipped past the cracks of the weathered walls, coughing out blood when her health was less than agreeable with her carrying out her somewhat normal life while fever scorched her body. And the silence became her faithful – yet loathed – companion.

“Kaya wonders what she will have for dinner?” she would say to herself, head tilted sideways as her mind drew up possibilities with the meager amount of food found by foraging and receiving from the few brave villages who ventured near her home. “Maybe Kaya will have some porridge? Or would some soup made by the mushrooms Kaya found be better suit for her?”

The sun had given way to cloudy skies and soon, the rain came. And though she was quite young, she was not a fool. Having seen the clouds from earlier and trusting her instincts, she was safely protected from the rain – or at least as safely as one could be with an old straw rain cape.

And maybe she would not have stopped and risked being soaked to the bones but her guts – or her instincts, whatever those were – prevented her from taking another step toward her home. And then, she knew why.

There was something. Something that was once white but the color had turned the dirty gray. Maybe it was that way because it was lying on the ground and might have been walked over and rained on. And there was a dark splotch of a brownish red and there was also this tuff of yellow – no, wait, that was not something.

Lying in the middle of the forest without anything but the clothes on his back was a person.

* * *

Maybe it was not the best idea to just carry some unknown man back. She knew the dangers of being a woman and inviting unknown men into her little shelter.

Yet she could not leave this man alone in the rain. She could not just walk on and let the rain continue to pour down on him. Her conscience would not let her do that.

So she brought him back, dressed him and gave him food.

“I want to die,” he said and she sat there, wondering what could have happened for someone as young as him – he might have been close to her age or might be younger – to wish so fervently for death.

And there was something else too. Envy. Jealousy. He who had so much life wished for death. And she, who had death haunting her every steps, yearned for more time on earth.

To feel the cold of snow on winter days. To see beautiful flowers in spring. To feel the heat of the scorching summer sun. To see pretty autumn leaves in shades of yellow and orange. To travel the world outside the boundaries of the village. To listen to various folk songs and stories. To grow old and have a family again. To find the other half of her soul who might be out there waiting for her.

But, but, she could never say those things. Because that was his choice. He chose to wish for death. And she would respect that. And he would be gone in the morning, leaving her alone with the four walls of her small hut and the silence.

Or at least that was what she thought until he found her coughing blood, slipped his arms under the back of her knees and lifted her up rather clumsily.

“I won’t get sick,” he said when she warned him against touching her, all serious like it was nothing but a fact and she did not have the heart to tell him otherwise. Young people were mostly hard-headed; she would know better than most.

He was so cute when he struggled to carry her. All flustered and trembling. Like a child trying to lift heavy things to prove themselves.

“I am sorry,” he said and she had to look at his face because it was so, so different from the flustered look earlier. It was a mature look of someone who had seen a lot – and maybe he had, she could not know for sure. “You gave me a valuable meal yet I did not thank you for that graciousness.”

“What is your name?” she asked and he stiffened, almost like a wounded animal.

Maybe he did not have a name? Yet the necklace he had by his side seemed to be something that only nobles could have. Perhaps something bad happened and he ran away. If that was the case, maybe asking him for his name would not be a wise move.

She was about to apologize and maybe reassure him that she meant no harm but his mouth moved and the most unbelievable thing escaped. “…My name is Zeno.”

* * *

_It could be a coincidence._

That was what she told herself as Zeno stirred the scalding hot porridge and separating it into two bowls for him and her. And she had told him countless time that he did not have to take care of her because of some misplaced guilt or anything but he insisted.

“I want to,” he said and she had decided to not interfere with his life and to respect his choice, despite the gnawing worry that he might end up infected like she had been when she took care of her father. So she stayed silent while praying that she would die before he was infected or that he would soon realize the danger he was in and leave, which ever came first was fine as long as he was healthy and alive.

He was not her soulmate. She would know. She had seen both of his wrists and there was not a scratch or anything that resembled a name on the back of his scrawny wrists.

However, that did not mean she was fine with a kind person dying because they did not know better than to stay away from someone dying from a deathly plague.

“I have already received so much from you,” she said, pressing her cheek into the pouch of heated up stones. “You don’t have to look after me anymore.”

“Do you not like being with me?”

The question could not be further from the truth. She took much fun in his companionship. Things seemed lighter, warmer with him around. She had someone to talk to beside herself and the four walls that caged her in.

“No, everyday has been fun but who knows when you will be infected. I can live by myself so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I can’t get sick,” he said, for the hundredth time and she did not have the heart to correct him. Because, one way or another, his breaths sounded clear in the nights they cuddled together to escape the cold, no coughs came from him and – thanks the gods above – not a drop of blood stained his clothes.

“But you also work to pay for my medicine. Those are not cheap, you know.”

“I like working so that’s fine.”

An argument. Much like the previous ones that usually ended with her coughing out blood and him rubbing her back worriedly and the matter was forgotten until the next time she brought it up.

However, she would not back down. Her time was running out faster than ever. She could feel it and knew he could too, no matter how hard he tried to act cheerful and upbeat.

“I want to stay with Kaya,” he said with all the determination and stubbornness she had come to know from the times they shared a roof. “I want to talk with Kaya. I want to live with Kaya forever.”

Forever… How bold of him... To wish for eternity with her… Yet there was nothing that could withstand the flow of times.

“Forever is impossible,” sharp and merciless, the only time she could channel such force into her words. Because this might be the only way to save him from a fate like hers. Being forced to watch as the people you hold dear wilt away and helplessly hope for a miracle.

“Kaya,” he called her name, confident and sure. “Please marry me.”

There were better ways to propose. Especially not when death was just around the corner. Especially not when he could be infected with the plague. And there was nothing romantic about the setting. Just the two of them in an about-to-collapse hut with her trying to get him to leave and him being so adamantly about staying.

“Is this because of the name on my wrist? If that’s the case, you don’t have to,” she insisted as a frown marred his face. “You don’t have my name on your wrist so my soulmate might not be you. And even if you were that person, I would never dream of forcing you to stay nor would I wish for you to forced yourself to do so.”

“It’s not like that!” He sounded pleading and scared with the way his hands tightened around hers. “It’s true that I don’t have a name like you do but I just want to stay by your side. It’s not because of guilt or pity. It’s just my wish to remain next to you.”

Maybe it was selfishness that prompted her to laced their fingers together. Maybe it was relief that he had chosen her – not because of guilt or pity or the name on her wrist – that made her eyes blurry with tears.

But she could not bring herself to care or worry when she mumbled out an agreement and basked in his warmth when his forehead rested against hers and in the knowledge that she was not alone with nothing but the silence as a companion.

* * *

The inevitable came and no one could stop it.

No matter how much Zeno cared for her, no matter how much work he went through to get medicines for her, no matter how much he prayed to the Dragon God – she knew; she had heard too many times when his voice would be raised in pain, in desperation, in frustration of the helplessness – she could feel herself getting weaker and weaker.

Waking up became more or less a chore where she had to fight for each labored breath, for each tiny movement with her body screaming in protest. Every night, she would lay awake, wretched by fever while Zeno ran around with wet rags and water and stopping once in a while to rub her back when the coughing became unbearable and blood stained her white scarf.

And then it came, the day when she woke up and knew.

“Thank you for everything,” she said, her hand in his. “Let’s meet again above the skies.”

He did not cry. Nor did his eyes glaze over with sadness. He just nodded and looked ahead. Looked at her. Like he had been prepared for this all along – which he might have, given how her health had been on decline since even before he stepped into the picture.

“Yes.”

Just a whisper. So softly that she nearly missed. And as her eyes closed, it became the last thing she heard.

* * *

She never knew that once upon a time, there was a little boy who had her name on his left wrist, written in strong but elegant strokes. She never knew how long that boy longed for the day they met and dreamed of two halves became one.

Nor did she know that when he drank the blood the Dragon God offered, her name faded, leaving behind an unmarred wrist that left him torn with anguish and regret for thousands of years.


	2. Chapter 2

_Have you ever wished things were different?_

She remembered clutching her mother’s bony hand with eyes blurred by tears of frustration at her own helplessness. And from outside, the wail of an infant sounded before the soft cooing from the man she had come to known as her father reached her ears.

Her mother, pale and sickly but still kind despite the grief that plagued her, managed a weak smile that spoke of sadness, of pain and of contentment.

_Never, dear child…_

* * *

The green of spring soon gave way to the harshness of the summer sun and then autumn came and brought out the multiple shades of orange and yellow of the leaves before they withered before the freeze of winter. And the body that was once hers was nothing but bones under rags.

And that person – the one who had worked and worked to get her medicines, the one who had screamed at the skies, prayed to the gods to _save her, please! I want to be by her side, if only just a day, a moment longer!_ – still held onto her hands.

“Please let go,” she whispered, kneeling next to him, trying to touch his shoulder – just to offer some comfort – and had to watch in vain as her hand simply passed through him like she was nothing but an illusion, just like the time before and the time before that.

And her pleads went unheard.

* * *

She was not alone. And no, it was not only Zeno and her – and what was left of her body.

“You shouldn’t stay,” the man who introduced himself as a sort-of brother of Zeno said, all gruff and huffy but she knew the kindness that laid in his words in the way his eyes spoke of regrets and lost when they looked at the person at her bedside. “The dead should be above the skies, not lingering on earth in limbo.”

“I can’t just leave him like this!”

It was an argument that they had had many times with her holding on steady-fast to remain by the side of that person who had stayed by hers and with him trying to get her to let go and watch over her beloved from above the skies because _Guen would have my head the moment I return empty-handed if I let the wife of our little brother wandering the earth in limbo._

"Little missy," the man groaned in exasperation and plopped down next to her, crossed legs and a frown on his lips. "All you have to do is let go and I will bring you to the skies above. There, you can reunite with your family and watch over this dummy."

It would be easy. To just take his offer. She would be reunited with her parents who she had wished for just a small glimpse because dear gods, she missed them and her little sibling who had lost a chance for a future, an opportunity to reach adulthood and see the beauties of this world.

But that person had stayed by her side, had stuck around stubbornly, heedless of her warning and in the end, asked for an eternity by her side as spouses.

"Thank you for the offer but I think I will stick around for a bit more, Shuten," she said, ignoring his _what the hell?_ "He stayed by my side until the last breath left me, until my heart beat its last. It would only be fair for me to repay the kindness he had shown me."

* * *

Sometimes, she forgot how much time had passed.

Months passed. Spring came and went. Her beloved – lovely, stubborn and so, so kind – never left her bedside. Never moved an inch. Not even when the day turned scorching hot from the summer nor did he bat an eyelash when the temperature dropped and frost covered the land. Without even a crumb of food nor a drop of water, the silent vigil continued and she watched, pleaded, prayed for him to just let go.

“He can’t hear you,” the man – delicate looking with moods and opinions – spoke, twirling a lock of beautiful and unusual blue hair. “Once upon a time, he might have been able to but he can’t do that anymore.”

“I wish he could,” she said, her murmured words trailed into a sigh. And oh, did she wish. To know that her words were heard. That her pleads reached his ears. That he would just understand that he did not have to hold onto her hand any longer because she was still by his side even though her mortal body had given up when pitted against the flow of time.

The man who just suddenly showed up one day and took Shuten’s place looked at her with his piercing, beautiful eyes that seemed to see into her very soul. And suddenly, she was reminded of a tale she had heard so long ago of an avatar of the gods who possessed eyes that could see everything far and near.

“It’s for the best that he doesn’t hear the whispers of gods and the gossips of spirits,” he said at last, gentle and quiet in a way that made his sharp edges seemed more than just thorns of disdain for the mundane. “His sanity would crumble in just days – or months, he is a stubborn thing – had he been able to do so.”

Of course, she knew. She knew of the yearning to see the familiar shape of your loved ones, of the want to hear voices that filled with so much warmth that those who lost their love could trade eternity for just a word from their dearest.

Once upon a time, she would have done so in a heartbeat if that meant she would be reunited with her family and escape the confines of the four depressing walls and her wilting body.

“Thanks the gods,” was her soft reply. “That he was deaf to otherworldly whispers. That his heart does not have to suffer from the sounds from his loved ones being so near yet so far.”

His eyes – piercing and ablaze like some kind of molten gold – never left hers and the corner of his mouth lifted up just a little bit before he hid it behind his sleeve and moved his gaze to the only one living in the small hut. “You are not his soulmate,” he said.

Time could stop and she would not be able to tell the difference but in the end, she managed a small smile. “Yes, I saw his wrist.”

That was a fact. He did not have a name of a compatible soul on his wrist and she had one with the same name as his. He might be hers but she was not his.

“And, Abi, I don’t care,” she murmured softly as she gazed at her love with so much tenderness that she felt like her non-existence heart would burst with overflowing love. “Soulmates do not have to end up as lovers. And he proposed to me. He wished for eternity with me so for eternity, he is as much mine as I am his. As husband and wife.”

She pretended to not notice the way Abi glowed with happiness – the kind of happiness directed at others, the selfless kind that spoke of unbreakable bonds – and his whispered _you love him, don’t you?_

* * *

She had known that mysterious things were at work that night she found him under the rain, covered in dirt and barely responding.

"You know what he is, don't you?" asked another brother of her beloved - all sharp edges and brute strength yet honest to a fault.

She nodded because she knew. Oh, dear gods, she knew. Sort of hard to miss with all the signs.

Shuten's joke about how he could just pick her up and bring her above the skies with just a few leaps. Abi and his beautiful eyes that blazed like molten gold, piercing like thousands of needles. Guen's scaly white hand that seemed so intimidating yet his touch remained gentle and comforting when he patted her head almost like a brother would.

And above all, Zeno's unchanging appearance as her body decomposed and what were once her clothes and beddings turned into rags.

She had worried, at first. Pleading with him to eat, to drink, to let go, and please, please move on! Yet he would not move a muscle and she gave up after some months and settled for a sort of silent acceptance that she did not think she was capable of.

"He is more than just a normal human," she replied.

"That he is," the bulky man agreed with a proud smirk that would have made many women swooned at him and asked for a ride. "Little sister, if you want to stay with him, you should be prepared for eternity."

"I already had," she replied with a sort of quiet determination that made the man chuckled good-naturedly. "From the moment he asked for eternity side by side…"

Her mind was made up the moment she agreed to be his wife. To stay by his side as he had for her. To be the quiet support, the warmth of a home, of a place to return, to belong…

"Going to the skies above would be nice," _wistful thinking_, she thought. "However, I want to stay by his side."

"There is nothing tying you to him, you know," the man pointed out. "You two are not soulmates so you have no obligation to stay with him."

Well, that was true. And she could, and should do take his advice. Yet…

"I know you don't want me to be stuck on earth until the end of time, Guen," she said in a calm, quiet voice. "Thank you for your kindness but I have already decided. To choose him of my own volition just as he chose me, not because of pity or guilt but because he wanted to."

Silence reigned before the man - her love's brother and therefore, her family - surged forward and warped her in a hug. "I wish you could have been by his side, alive and in the flesh. Until truths become myths and great empires crumble into dust and tales…" was murmured into her hair, with heartbreak and regrets. "I wish things could have been different. For you, for him, and for us…"

There were times she had wished for the same. For a chance by his side, through thick and thin and in the flesh where she could hug and comfort him, could lay his head on her laps and sing a lullaby to ease his worries. For a different meeting between them where she did not have death stalking her every steps and he was not so haunted by loss.

For a life with her love. A normal life filled with domestic bliss and love.

"That's nice," she said, voice filled with longing but voided of regrets. "Yet I would have been driven insane had I been given the gift of immortality."

She would. Or her sanity would remain yet her spirit would be broken beyond repair.

"True…" Guen laughed, bitterly, sadly, for the fate of his younger brother, for the cruel blessing and curse of infinity that ran in his brother’s veins. "He might have been the youngest and the weakest when it came to physical strength but his will is nothing to scoff at."

"Stubborn, stubborn," she laughed at that because she knew, first-handed, like Guen had, of how her husband was. He might have bent and bent but never did he break.

It was a long time until Guen let go of her but when he did, he looked relief, like a weight has been somewhat lifted from his shoulders. "Watch over him," he said, staring at the mop of dirty blond hair, unmoving despite years and years had passed. "We would have done it as often as we could but all of the guiding the dead to the skies above is tiring," he grumbled with something that resembled a pout. "It sucks that dragons can travel between worlds and we are stuck with bringing those dead to the skies."

She laughed because, gods, he had spoken like his duties were blessings from the skies, all sparkles and smiles and then turned around and said something like this, like what he did were just chores.

"Don't laugh, sister! I swear, you're worse than our king!"

* * *

She had thought that her love would be rooted at her bedside until things turned to dust and that thought was disturbing and saddening and oh, so horrifying. So when he moved - the first time in years - she heaved a sigh of relief.

She watched as what was once her was lowered into dirt, as her beloved marked her resting place with stones and set a flower, like the one he had set in her hair lifetimes ago, on the cold grave. And she watched. Silently, unmoving from his side.

“Thank you, Kaya,” he murmured softly under his breath, almost unnoticeable had she not been close enough to catch those quiet words. “I’m sorry that I have to break our promise. I probably can’t go to the skies above to meet you.”

“Silly, silly Zeno,” she replied, despite the impossibility of her words reaching his ears yet she did so anyway. “You shouldn’t have promised the impossible.”

There was no sign that he heard her but he knelt in silence, hands together with a soft, painful smile on his lips.

* * *

Long ago, King Hiryuu who descended from heaven and the four warriors who possessed the blood of the dragons found Kouka.

One was given claws that could tear through anything. One was given eyes that could see into far distance. One was given legs that could reach for the skies. And one was given a body that could never be injured.

Or at least that was how the tales went.

They never told of bonds made and broken; of wrists that were once decorated with names; of tears spilled at the thoughts of losing the other half of your soul; of regrets that lasted through lifetimes…

They never spoke of family, bounded by anything but blood; of hope, lost and found; of love that prevailed for thousands of years…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> I have never written any Soulmate AU so this is the first and I'm quite proud of myself that it turned out well in my opinion. I just want to try sharing some of the thoughts that I had while I was writing this.
> 
> Example 1: What/How does one feel when they are dying? - I just remembered that time I had sleep paralysis and maybe altered just a bit to fit it.
> 
> Example 2: Wait, so if the name disappeared when Zeno drank the blood, does that means it's the same with the others? - Yes but there's someone without a name too. Like they're supposed to be the other half of the dragon gods on earth so they couldn't possibly have another half.
> 
> Example 3: So how does one feel when they are attending their own funeral? - I used that scene in Magnus Chase and the gods of Asgard where Magnus went to his own funeral for reference but I think with the time Zeno spent by Kaya's bedside and held her hand, it would be more than a year or so, so Kaya would have time to come to terms with the fact that she was seeing Zeno with her decomposed body (I spent some time doing researches about decomposition and recalled things I read and learned about it in the past but I'm not a scientist so it might not be accurate)


End file.
